Personal Narrative: Dark Images

Dark images remain etched in my mind. During the time I entered my teen years something happened to alter my life. The memory echoing sounds heard at the beginning of that faithful night. A symphony of snaps and the soft crackling sounding in chorus effectively expressing a non-threatening occurrence taking place. The smoke was intoxicating, consequently, lulling us to sleep. Gently, I would wake unable to move; unsuspecting to me, my body being consumed with fumes. I could hear a still slight whisper saying “wake up” but, my body would not comply.
Literally, feeling intense heat slowly rising in the atmosphere. Sluggishly, I forced my body to sit up in bed, my head continued to hang down, pounding, so weighty. Moving as if in slow motion
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Asking a myriad of questions: What happened? Where is your mother? Did everyone get out? I was only fourteen but had the consciousness of mind to make sure all the children were safe. I remember the sensation of standing beside myself directing my actions. I am convinced the angles held the fire back for my cousin to get out.
The Firemen’s report stated the fire started in the Living room, we called it the Front room. The Front room normally for relaxing and socializing. The furniture included a large sofa for a family to gather and watch T.V.
But, this was a sad room mother sat alone crying during the nights, you could feel the sadness in the walls. a small electric heater was knocked over by our cat. I was not fully persuaded that their account was accurate. Nonetheless, the reality is clear it
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I know she would not do anything to harm us. Jezebel; had a calm disposition. She never had kittens, but she was somewhat maternal. Jezebel was our protector.
Mother had been depressed for years, ever since the divorce. She smoked, drank excessively and visited the nightclubs to medicate the misery, as a result, the house was a sad house. Instead of joy and laughter filling the rooms the essence was sadness and uncertainty.
The kitchen, fully equipped with standard equipment stove, refrigerator, counters and cabinets, but never filled with a love for cooking and shared family dinners. Scarcity was the norm always lacking food void of fulfilling its purpose. In fact, it did not contain beautiful china or window sills filled with growing plants. It was a lifeless shell of a room.
A traditional bathroom shared by five to six people daily., the tiny fixtures, bathtub, washbowl and toilet. No, not one picture on the wall or crisp flowers for decoration. The unassuming impression was gloomy and

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